


Silent Apologies

by Kayim



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelly knows that his attempts to make peace are going to be ignored at best; rebutted at worst.  But when he sees Matt at the station, every day retreating further into himself, his face blank until waves of anger flood across him, he can't help trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Apologies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samjohnsson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samjohnsson/gifts).



> A birthday fic for my brain!twin, without whom my life would be infinitely less interesting ♥

Kelly knows that his attempts to make peace are going to be ignored at best; rebutted at worst. But when he sees Matt at the station, every day retreating further into himself, his face blank until waves of anger flood across him, he can't help trying.

He knocks at Matt's door, refusing to acknowledge the way his hand is shaking, and stands there waiting for the longest 30 seconds of his life. His mind runs through every possible scenario, starting with the one where Matt finally opens up to him and they get back to what they used to have, and ending with the one where he breaks in and finds Matt unconscious on the floor. He's not sure which scenario scares him most.

When the door opens, Kelly recognizes the haunted look in Matt's eyes - he's seen it in the mirror enough times - and his gaze drifts down to the half-empty bottle of Jack in Matt's hand. There are still visible bruises on Matt's face, with probably more hidden beneath the worn t-shirt, and Kelly can't think of a single thing to say that doesn't seem trite.

It doesn't matter what he says though. Matt isn't going to hear him, any more than he has done in the last few weeks. So he makes the deliberate choice not to say anything.

He steps into the house, kicking the door closed behind him, forcing Matt backwards. The slamming of the wooden door echoes in the under-furnished house, but Kelly can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the sound. He keeps walking as Matt keeps stepping backwards, until Matt's flat against the wall. He eases the bottle from Matt's fingers, his eyes locked on Matt's, and takes a deep swallow of the contents before twisting the lid back on and dropping it onto the chair beside them. 

The taste of Matt's mouth is more intoxicating than the whiskey, and Kelly can't get enough of it. He's got his hands braced on the wall on either side of Matt, their bodies pressed flush against each other, and can feel Matt's desperate grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. They're both hard, hips pushing against each other, rutting like animals, but it's not enough.

Matt moans as Kelly pulls away, but the sounds become gasps and incoherent pleas as Kelly drops to his knees, hands fumbling with the zip and button of Matt's jeans, pushing the material to the floor. There are no words between them – at least nothing more than _god_ and _yes_ and _please_ \- but Kelly knows they want the same thing. 

It's what they've always wanted.

His hands grip Matt's hips, fingers loosening when he hears the hiss of breath, and he notices the bruises already there. He looks up, an apology on his lips, but Matt shakes his head, reaching down and pressing Kelly's hands back over the fading purple marks. Kelly understands, spreading his fingers to cover as much of the skin as he can, replacing the memories of the attack.

Kelly keeps his eyes on Matt's face as he opens his lips and leans in. It's been too long since he's done this, but he remembers how to relax and enjoy it, relishing the feel of Matt's hands in his hair, and Matt's cock in his mouth. Matt's never been one to just lie there and take it – no matter what "it" they're talking about – so he knows that the hands will start to pull, controlling the speed and the pressure. Kelly doesn't mind letting someone else take charge, if only for a short while.

Matt's been drinking, and it's not enough to cause any problems, but Kelly knows that neither of them are going to last long. He can feel his own erection straining against the too-tight denim of his jeans, almost too much to bear, and yet somehow still not quite enough. Without losing his rhythm, he shuffles himself slightly to increase the pressure, even as he feels Matt's fingers tightening in his hair. 

He doesn’t know which of them comes first – whether his own climax affected the way he swallowed Matt down, or whether the taste of Matt spilling down his throat triggered him to follow suit – but he loosens his grip on Matt's hips, and feels the other man slide down the wall to collapse beside him.

Kelly moves until his back is against the wall, his position mirroring Matt's. He wants to reach out, but isn't sure – even now – how he'll be received. Instead he drops his hand to the floor between them, leaving the choice up to Matt, and closes his eyes.

Matt's hand is warm when it covers his own, and Kelly opens his eyes to see Matt staring at him. He can catalog almost every one of Matt's expressions, but this one is new. There's something there that he's not seen before and he doesn't know what to do about it.

"Thank you." Matt's voice is barely more than a whisper, and it's not clear whether he's thanking Kelly for the blowjob, or for coming to visit, or for any one of a million things, but Kelly doesn't mind. It's the first time that Matt's spoken to him without the pain and anger in his voice since the day Andy died. 

_Maybe we'll be okay,_ he thinks to himself, as he turns his hand over and holds on tightly.


End file.
